


Smile

by Blank_Ideas



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Ideas/pseuds/Blank_Ideas
Summary: Short and fluffy one, just some Jonah thoughts
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Smile

“You have the prettiest smile Jonah.”

Barnabas’s voice is hoarse with sleep.

The way he said it was so light, as if a gentle speck of candlelight by which it meant no harm to the dark it repulsed so easily in it’s simple existence whilst it illuminated forgotten corners. Softened by the encompassing neutrality of a long rest and all the more enamoured with Jonah, who appeared to be painted angelic through the few beams of sunlight that glided through the curtains, Barnabas’s voice was warm and sweet and beneath his teetering tone of a unique brand of awkward and cheery- Jonah could bask for hours within its sense of reverance.

In this moment Barnabas appears as the pilgrim, having crossed the thousand miles of distance across ballrooms and countryside, making deft movements through garden parties and stumbling through operatic interludes in order to tumble within the sheets of a church built of feathers, wood and cotton. He worships so softly before Jonah, his entire body made the prayer as he teased apart the holy scripts from Jonah’s throat and made his body ache, pale, freckled and marked skin blessed golden in the sparse oil lamp light. Barnabas is the worshipper, Jonah knows this, and any statement the man makes is more so a statement of adoration then any attack.

But Jonah tensed at the comment, a slight pit growing within his chest as he shifted uncomfortably beneath the now too awake eyes of his partner and the now too heavy sheets of the bed, he is stilled after a momentary contemplance of pushing away from Barnabas when he finds a warm hand weaving within his cold ones, clasping them softly. Subconsciously Jonah pulls the tangled embrace towards his chest and rests his beating heart, staring at the smile of Barnabas who lay upon his side and blocked the sun from Jonah’s eyes. He frowns because that is a very Jonah thing to do, thefting the sacred relic.

“Oh do I now?”

Jonah has pulled at his face more then enough to know its state, having examined it time and time again while pouring over the mirror sat within his own washroom. He has tugged at his features, tried various methods to correct them to his preference though having always been stopped a moment before surgery by the gentlest reassurance of his constant and oldest friend. The point is that he knew his face, had witnessed near enough first hand as it has changed over time, hungrier, hollower, he feels his smile all the more pinched and all the worse for wear beneath the weight of his constant and exhaustive search for knowledge.

Jonah does not think he has a pretty smile, not anymore, he feels it debased and spilt from something once effortless and pure.

Imperfect- that is what his smile has become.

But instead of feeding this stream of thoughts Barnabas does what Jonah could never and dips forward to kiss away the steadily growing stresses that were already winding their way about his day. He is gentle, thumb stroking Jonah’s knuckles as he settled back and seemed self satisfied with his actions.

“Yes. Yes you do.”

When Barnabas smiled the creases upon his face were softened by the golden tendrils of sunlight so much so that the beginnings of crows feet that tapered his eyes and the deep knot of lines above his brow seemed smoothed beyond notice. He smiled as he laughed, the grown man laid beside Jonah chuckling something full and hearty though seemingly filtered slightly, made quieter by the enclosed and secretive atmosphere of an early morning amongst lovers and sleep. From here Jonah could spy the greys that had begun to weave themselves through Barnabas’s temples and could note the numerous signs of a man no longer in his prime, usually Jonah would fret over such details, attempt to smooth them out with the pad of his thumb and deny the passage of time that had changed them all.

But as of the moment Jonah remained loose and languid upon the sheets of Barnabas’s bed and let himself, for just a moment, smile.

Quietly he brings his lips to the back of Barnabas's hand and returns just a small piece of adoration.


End file.
